His Side
by UndoneChaos
Summary: Everyone's always telling Ike's side of this cute little romance. Well it's time we heard it through Georgie's eyes. Chapter fic, eventual Gike.
1. Chapter 1

I groaned at the touch of my own hand, arching my back and letting my head fall onto my black-cased pillow. My mouth was twisted open in a silent scream, my eyes squeezed shut so that the black eye shadow smeared over my eyelids was visible. A deep growl emitted from deep within my throat, turning into a depraved hiss as I clamped my teeth shut. With my unoccupied hand I groped at my black sheets, bunching them up in my harsh grasp. As I hit my high, coming all over my hand, I fell back with an exasperated sigh.

The fifth time. This week. I needed to stop thinking about that little conformist. The way his black hair fell in a swoop over his sharp blue eyes, or the fact that his tiny frame was the exact opposite of his inner strength. I was in love.

I lay in my bed a few seconds longer, letting my breathing return to normal before getting up and heading to the shower. I hated how he made me feel. So. Fucking. Much. I stopped to look at myself in my mirror. Pathetic. There were bags under my eyes: normal, but not this heavy. Usually they were that way from my insomnia, not from staying up every night jacking off to him. I groaned and tore my eyes away from my reflection, pulling my shirt and boxers off before getting in the shower. The water was cold, just the way it needed to be. I needed a wake-up call from my faggy nighttime lusting over him. I shivered under the cold streams, rolling my shoulders and snapping my wrists.

"I hate my_self_!" I groaned, slamming my head on the shower wall. I hated myself and I loved him. Why did I have to love him?

I got out of the shower, not bothering to turn the water off. I didn't care if the stupid bitch of the house had to pay extra this month. I glanced one more time at my now soaked reflection, hissing. I ran out of the room and back into mine, picking up a random dirty shirt and some black skinny jeans and throwing them on–(I gave up on trying to hide my boxer lines and just chose not to wear them)– before slamming my fist into my wall. "FUCKER!" I shouted, hitting the same spot again and again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I walked up to my dresser, opening a drawer before pulling out my purple lipstick, eyeliner, eye shadow, and hand-held mirror. I put on the liner first, paying special attention to how thick it was. I liked my eyeliner thick. Then I put on the shadow, and being the LAZY fucker I was, just smeared it over my eyelids. Last was my lipstick, which I also took care to make perfect, because if it didn't I just looked gay.

I snatched my box of cigarettes from atop my dresser and my hoodie from over my chair. I threw the hoodie on and stuffed my Marlboros in its front pocket before walking over to my window, prying it open. I slipped through and landed on the dying grass below with a small thud. Leaving my window open I jogged away into the cold frozenness of the world. I knew where I was going. I was going to finally confront the little bastard, and if he didn't feel the same way too bad.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked for about a minute before looking down at my black nail polished toes and realizing I was barefoot. I groaned, thinking about jogging back but deciding against it. His house wasn't so far away, and the only thing I could see for a mile was the stretch of slowly browning grass I was residing on.

I looked around me, at all of the different houses and buildings and… person? Who the Hell would be up strolling at 4:30 in the morning? It couldn't be Dylan because he lived on the other side of town, same as Evan and Henrietta. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out the person slowly moving closer toward me.

Eventually I gave up and, showing little care, started walking toward the Broflovski residence again. I was slowly getting closer to the person in front of me, but of course I didn't realize that. I was too busy trying to light the Marlboro placed between my artificially purple lips. Turns out I had also forgotten my lighter, but there were matches in the box.

I hated matches. Call me lazy, but they were just too much work. And when it was seventy below and windy as fuck, my matches weren't liking me either. I finally got my damn fag lit and breathed in, resting in the two-second period of peace I got before I had to exhale. Oh, and by the way, _yes_ a fourteen-year-old boy should _not_ be smoking. So fucking what. It's not like that was the only thing fourteen-year-olds around here didn't do. I drank alcohol, smoked pot, tattooed myself… I even lost my virginity at 13.

OK, so maybe I was out of it at the time, and maybe some faggy little thing called 'regret' seeped into my brain the next hung-over morning, and maybe I was sore for a week. I'm just putting it out there; Dylan and Evan are not small.

Since I was so out of it recounting the many things I did for fun that no-one else my age would dare–getting a lip ring and tongue stud, for instance–I didn't notice that said suspicious figure was right in front of me. And of course, I ran into them.

"Oi! Watch where you're going–IKE?! What the fuck are you doing out here?" I spat, not remembering for half a second that this was the person I needed to see.

"I couldn't sleep", he shrugged. "Why are you out here?" Oh, no reason. I just woke up, jacked off to you, and then thought I should come _tell_ you I jack off to you so that we could form a relationship.

"Same."

"Oh, well where were you headed?" he asked, locking his eyes with mine.

"To you", I say without thinking. I feel my cheeks get warmer. God damn it…

"Me? Why?" he asked, looking at me warily.

"Because I needed to tell you something", I snapped, speaking the words as if they were as obvious as the sky is blue. Well, in this case grey.

"What?" he asked again. Jesus with the questions! I was fucking fed up as shit with the fact that I couldn't show emotion like a normal person, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't supposed to go this far. I just wanted to kiss him, to tell him "Hey, I like you" but without words. Yeah, well, Georgie, that's not how it happened now is it?

The second I pressed my lips to his I grabbed his wrist, pulling his body closer to mine. This action caused him to gasp–(no surprise there)–which I took advantage of in shoving my tongue in his mouth. I'd never kissed anyone like this… It was like pouring all of your raw emotion out to a stone wall. But I kept kissing him, running my tongue against his, and not caring for a _second_ that he would probably hate me afterward.

Every conformist feeling I've ever had; pain, love, anger… They all poured into that kiss and I got nothing in return. I knew I needed to breathe, or for Chrissakes I was going to pass out. But a little part of me was afraid. Afraid that the second I pulled away, I'd never be able to kiss him again. I worked my lips against his, my tongue against his, trying to coax _some_ sort of response from him. But nothing.

And I pulled away. For the first time after I had touched my lips to his, I looked up at his face. Nothing. Eyes a glassy, emotionless haze. He stood as still as death, pale as it as well. My lipstick had smudged all over his mouth area, which I would think looked hilarious in any other circumstance. Instead I just croaked out "Ike?"

Somewhere in that deep nothingness a flicker of recognition shone, but that was it. Just a second before his normally vibrant blue eyes returned the color of the stormy sky.

"I'm sorry", I muttered, before turning on my heel and running back home. I didn't care about anything at that moment. Not the air I needed to breathe, or the crisp, dying grass under my bare feet. Not even the silent tear, the first in _five_ years, trailing a line of dark grey down my snow-colored cheek. I was numb. As numb as Ike looked, but despite the fact that my movements were regulating heat through my body, I had never felt more cold.

I didn't bother going back into my room. I sat under the old tree by my window, next to the pocket knife I had chucked into it a year ago. I sat, buried my head in my knees, and hurt. No more tears, just hurt. Paranoia and hurt. What if Ike got kidnapped standing out there all frozen like that? What if he hates me now? Of course he hates you now, dumbass, what's to like? Georgie Matthews, 'biggest nonconformist of them all', was crying over a boy like any other spoiled brat girl in his grade.

I grabbed the end of the pocket knife and pulled, with what little strength I had left, until it was out of the trunk of the tree. The blade was still perfectly sharp, having been preserved by the tree for the whole year it was out here in this horrid weather.

At least I didn't feel bad about what happened next. I mean, _they_ both did it so I shouldn't be ashamed, right? "Fuck being a nonconformist. I don't want to try anymore." And with those words, the ones I already regretted, I brought the knife to my wrist, slashing a bloody red trail through my unhealthily pale skin.


	4. Chapter 4

"Georgie. Georgie!" I fluttered my eyes open and immediately felt cold. I looked up and saw someone, a blur, standing in front of me. "Georgie, get up!"

"What?" I groaned, sitting up. I winced, feeling a pain in my arm, and looked down. Oh yeah. My wrist had a huge gash through it, and a much thinner but still open cut leading from the middle of my wrist all the way to the bottom of my forearm. My blood had dried and crusted over it, attempting to seal the cuts. I winced.

"Little bitch, it's just me.'' I recognized the voice the moment I heard its nickname for me. Dylan. He crouched down so he was equal hight with me. He grabbed my arm; gently, but it still hurt. "What's up with this?" His voice turned serious.

"It's nothing–"

"Georgie, I will seriously rape you if you don't tell me what's up." I frowned at him, sitting up better.

"I'm sure that would make me feel much better", I said in a sarcastic drawl. He smirked.

"You'll feel something, that's for sure, but I'm not sure it'll be better." He then sat down, scooting next to me against the tree. "Georgie…" he sighed, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Why?"

"I kissed him", I said. It was a simple response, and I said it with no emotion. Just blunt and right out there. My glassy eyes stared into nothingness, looking out at the flurries of snow that had begun to fall. I hated snow. It was so pure. Like it was mocking life, laughing right in its face.

"And what? He turned you down?" Dylan turned his head to the side, looking at me.

"No."

"He… What, then?"

"Nothing."

"Georgie, I will bite you right where you want it and you will be putty in my manipulative hands if you don't just… Tell me", he sighed, shutting his eyes with a slight grin on his face.

"It was nothing!" I answered him. Apparently he wasn't getting it.

"Georgie, I'm so flippin' serious. My teeth are two centimeters away from you…" he flitted his gaze in the other direction, grinning even wider.

"Nothing! He did no–" my words were cut off as Dylan's straight, white, sharp teeth bit down '_right where I wanted it_ '.

"Mmmng, oh FUCK!" I growled, mad at myself for moaning and at Dylan for biting me. He pulled his vampiric teeth out of my skin, licking the blood he drew there. "Dylan, you are so~" a shiver went down my spine as he taunted me with his tongue. "Creepy", I finished, finally turning my neck away from him.

"You gonna tell me now?" he asked, flipping his bangs out of his eyes. They just fell back into place.

"I already did. I kissed him, and he did nothing."

"Ooh… That's what you meant. Heh… Wait, but then what happened?" he looked at me sheepishly.

"I tried to get a response. I did. But he just stood there. And Dylan, it hurt. A lot. So I ran, and in the heart of the moment…" I showed him my wrist again. I knew he had similar scars, and in a lot more places too, so I didn't feel as bad. He wrapped his arms around me.

"Georgie…" he whispered, looking at me with his grey eyes. "I'm sorry." A cocky grin grew on his face. "Let Dyllie make you feel better", he laughed.

He's never ever liked that nickname. I mean, I gave it to him when I first met him, and he just gave me a distasteful look. But hearing him use it already made me feel better. And then he bit me again.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't even remember when Dylan had sat down next to me. Or why I had been crying. Or what the fuck I was doing under the tree in my backyard. I only knew that I _was_ crying, I _was_ sitting under the tree in my backyard, and Dylan _was_ sitting next to me. With his hands down my pants.

I knew there had been a purpose for all of this, that I was sitting here with Dylan, crying for a reason. But fuck me if I knew what it was, because the only thing my brain was thinking was _ohshit ohshit ohshit_.

I slowly opened one eye, panting harshly. And seeing everything in reality, I remembered.

_"C'mon, Georgie", Dylan whined, his hands dangerously close to my crotch._

_"No, Dyl", I said, very straight faced although I was freaking out on the inside. Dylan smirked and leaned down, biting my neck again. I moaned._

_"I'm going to say your body is thinking differently", he said teasingly, dragging his palm over the bulge in my pants. I shivered, clutching his shirt in my hand._

_"Well excuse me!" I choked out. "I didn't _ask_ you to come over here and do this, it was your choice!" He laughed, running his tongue over my collarbone._

_"I just want to help, Georgie!" And at that, his hand had snaked its way into my pants._

Oh yeah.

Huh. I should be doing something about this… Dyl's hand was running up and down my dick, and he was ghosting his long, unoccupied fingers over the tip. Nah, I'll leave it. As if I don't already hate myself enough, one more thing won't hurt.

"Dy~lan… " I threw my head back, arching myself into his fist. He smirked and turned my face to his, kissing me and licking his way into my mouth. I was on high "Fuck it" mode, so I didn't hesitate a second to meet his tongue with mine.

The thing about Dylan was, he knew how to kiss. And Evan–who would know, BTW–says he gets it from all of the apples he eats. Which is also why he kinda tastes like apples. I didn't even care. This was the boy I trusted enough to take my virginity, so I knew he wouldn't hurt me.

Even though he has horrible anger issues and an evil 'I will destroy you' glint in his eye 24/7.

His hand worked faster, thumbing the slit of my dick as he pumped my shaft. I outright moaned into his mouth, bucking my hips up. I could feel the corners of his mouth slip up into his signature smile, and he laughed from the back of his throat.

I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach and pulled away, locking my impossibly violet eyes with his grey ones.

"I'm gonna cum, Dylan", I breathed, and he grinned, flipping his hair out of his eyes only to have it fall right back as he worked his hand faster. I closed my eyes tight, grabbing Dyl's shirt tighter as I released all over his hand.

"Better now?" he asked, pulling his hand out of my pants and licking my cum off his fingers. I looked at him weirdly and he gave me a 'what?' face, continuing his actions.

"Dyl, you are so disturbing", I sighed, buttoning my pants. I mean "ew", but I'd change them later.

"Yes or no?"

"It doesn't change the fact that he did nothing, Dylan." My expression saddened as the memory filled my head.

"Alright then", he said, wiping his hand on his pants. "I'll just have to TICKLE YOU TO DEATH!"

"What? No! Dy–" but before I could get any farther, Dylan lunged himself at me in an attepmt to 'tickle me to death.'


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a week. A week since I climbed out the window and everything went downhill from there. I hadn't even come out of my room. Evan came to check on me–After hearing what happened between me and Dyl, Henrietta had refused to let him ANYWHERE near me for the next month. She sent Evan instead–once in a while, but for the past two days I had seen nothing of my group or Ike.

I needed to get out. My room smelled heavily of smoke and empty coffee cups were littered everywhere. I had no clean pants left because I was too depressed to even do the laundry, so I was back to just wearing underwear like a NORMAL person.

Oh my God, how I hated myself. I wanted to call up someone, anyone and just talk. I wanted to cry, to scream and punch the wall, but I didn't have the energy. I just lay in bed, hating myself.

My phone rang on my bed, but I ignored it. The slight chance that it might be Henrietta or Evan–no matter how much I WANTED to talk to them–made me shudder. They were just gonna call me up and remind me that "Dylan is three years older than you, this is sexual harassment, what the fuck Georgie?" or "I can't believe you honestly… Georgie, really? Really?" They were like my parents. Evan was my dad, and Henri was my mom. And Dylan was my incestuous pervy brother.

I actually wouldn't mind talking to Dylan, because he wouldn't JUDGE me for being VULNERABLE. Sheesh. At least he couldn't grope me over the phone.

It rang again, and I decided to just pick it up. No need to check the caller ID, I'm sure it was just another "Jesus, you're stupid!" I mean, it could've been Dylan, who would've at least tried to cheer me up, but it wasn't. It wasn't any of them.

What greeted me when I croaked out 'hello' in my heavy smoker tone, think with depression and dry from drinking nothing but coffee, was a very timid and quiet voice. And I would've known it anywhere.

"Hey, I-I… I like you too." *Click* And I dropped my phone.


	7. Chapter 7

I jumped off my bed, running over to my window and shoving it open. I was just about to climb out of it when I remembered that my make-up wasn't on. "Shit!" I cursed, bringing my leg back through my cramped window. I yanked my drawer open, taking out my eyeliner, eyeshadow, and purple lipstick.

I lined my eyes in a hurry, smearing my eyeshadow on. I ran my lipstick over my lips hurriedly, stopping to check how I looked in my handheld mirror. Just the same. Huh. Ah, well.

I went back to climbing out the window, practically throwing myself out of it before breaking into a run. I ran past the park, past Harbucks, past Raven's house… A few houses later and I was there, right in the front yard of the Broflovski residence. In nothing but black boxers and a Nine Inch Nails shirt.

I ran around the side of the house to where Ike's room was, searching the ground frantically before finding a rock I could chuck at his window. I picked it up and, with my surprisingly strong arm, threw it at the pane.

I head a loud crash, followed by a "FUCK!" Damn it. I buried my head in my hands. Really, Georgie? Nice. Break his window, why don't you?

"Georgie?" I snapped my head back up to the window, violet eyes meeting blue. "Wait… I'm gonna come down there." I fidgeted where I stood, watching Ike leave from the window down to where I was. I clicked my tongue stud against my teeth, resting in the peaceful 'tick' noise it made. A hand on my shoulder made me jump, and I turned around.

"Georgie, I'm sorry. I–I didn't know what to say before. I thought you always hated me!" Ike's wide eyes glistened with a slight twinge of fear, and my heart sighed.

"No. Well, yeah. Well, no! No, I don't hate you. It's just…" I didn't know what to say either. Huh. Kissing the little brat was so much easier. I huffed and rolled my eyes, cursing my inability to speak.

"U-uh, I don't understand–" I cut him off by grabbing his chin, running my thumb over his cheek with my other hand.

"I'm only going to ask so you don't break me again", I sighed, looking into his eyes.

"I want it", Ike breathed. "I want you to kiss me." And this time he connected our lips.

I dropped my hand from his face, wrapping it around his waist before pulling him up against me. I licked my way into his mouth, mimicking my past actions as our tongues collided. I snaked my hand up his shirt, running my fingers over his smooth chest. He moaned into my mouth when I rubbed my thumb over his nipple, and I smirked.

Eventually I pulled away, causing him to give a little whine of disapproval. I laughed.

"Georgie… I'm really sorry about before–" I pressed my finger to his swollen lips, shushing him.

"We cannot change the past, for the past is like a death. To resurrect the dead is impossible in it self, so why would you even try?" His big, blue eyes blinked up at me.

"I– I don't…" I grabbed his wrist and started to walk in the direction of my house. "Where are we going?"

I turned around and crouched a bit, so that I was at his height. "Away."


	8. Chapter 8

"This is your room?" Ike asked, standing in the middle of my paradise. He was rubbing his arm nervously. I laughed.

"Yeah, pretty much. Not anything spectacular, really", I answered. I walked over to my dresser, pulling open a drawer. "Go ahead and sit on the bed, I'll be over in a second."

"What're you looking for?" he asked from his newfound spot on my bed.

"Coke", I answered honestly, digging through numerous drawers. "Heroin, maybe. Why?"

"Ju-just wondering", he stuttered, his face flushing. I found what I was looking for and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to Ike.

"Ever snort cocaine?" I asked, getting the line ready on my handheld mirror.

"U-uh, no", he replied, looking scared. I sighed.

"Well it only burns for a few seconds. Here, watch", I said, adjusting the straw to my nose and breathing in. It burned for a few seconds, which always sucks donkey dick, but I eventually got used to it as the feeling settled in my body and made me calm down.

"I'm only twelve", Ike stated.

"I'm not pressuring you", I laughed, staring into his eyes. Damn, those things were blue.

"Hand it over then", Ike said, a determined tone to his voice. I just shrugged and handed him the mirror with the line already prepared for him. He grabbed the straw from next to me, setting it up nervously.

"Just breathe in. It only hurts for a bit", I said, and he snorted up the line. I just watched, half paying attention.

"Fuck!" he said, dropping the mirror into his lap. "That stings!" He grabbed his nose, looking at me.

"3… 2… 1…", I said, counting off on my fingers. When I reached one his whole demeanor changed, and he looked up at me with a goofy grin.

"I feel funky", he giggled. I reached up and ruffled his hair.

"Good for you, kiddo." Staring at Ike, I got a sudden urge to kiss him. Doing so didn't mean I was in uncharted waters, so I did. I pressed my lips to his, coaxing his mouth open with my tongue. With my senses heightened, this was probably the best kiss I'd ever had.

I practically purred when he kissed back with the same unyielding passion, allowing me to practically climb into his lap. My hands were everywhere: his face, his hair, his chest… But when I got down to his dick, he stopped me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling away and resting my forehead on his.

"I… I… It's embarrassing!" he practically whined, turning his head. I brought his chin back to face me.

"I would never laugh at you. Now tell me; what's the matter?" He squirmed under me, trying to get away, but I held his jaw tight to face me.

"Alright!" he finally gave in. I let go of his face, dropping my hand down to grasp his. "I've never… touched myself before." I blinked. That was it?

"Kiddo!" I squeezed him in a hug. "I'm sure a lot of boys your age still haven't done that. What, are you afraid? It doesn't hurt, that's _why_ people do it. Don't worry, Georgie will take care of you." He beamed up at me, a sincere smile shining in his ever-vibrant eyes.

I pushed him back to where he was now lying on my bed, working my hands up his body. They got to his hips and he sent me a frightened glance, but I just pressed my palm to the bulge in his skinny jeans, and he moaned.

"See? I told you it feels good." He merely only nodded as I placed my cheek to his clothed cock, then my lips.

"Georgie…" he whined, looking flustered.

"Hmm?" I asked, working on getting his pants down. "No underwear?"

"U-uh, no. It makes it too hard to wear my pants–AH!" I grabbed his cock, cutting him off.

"Well well well. You weren't lying! Poor baby, it's like you've been wearing a cock ring this whole time! How come you've never done this?" I asked, sliding my hand up and down his shaft.

"I-I… I don't–"

"You must have been so frustrated! Poor baby boy… Well, I'll make you feel better." With that, I took his cock into my mouth, letting out a purr.

"FUCK! Jesus…" Ike's hands found their way into my hair, grasping the natural black and purple synthetic dye. I worked my mouth on his dick, humming a BOTDF song as I went along.

"Georgie… I– I think I–" he cut himself off with a strangled moan as he released down my throat. I popped off him, grinning.

"Nothing to be afraid of, right?" He shook his head no. "C'mere", I said, giving him a grin.

He leaned forward tentatively, a questioning look on his face. "I'm gonna kiss you", I answered his silent question.

"What? Bu-but my… It's on your–" I laughed.

"Yes, it does appear that way, huh?" and with that, I collided our lips once more. He let out a mewl as I forced his mouth open, running my tongue against his.

I pulled away and he sighed, letting his head fall onto my chest. "Isn't this illegal?" he asked.

"What? Doing coke and making out with someone a little out of your age range? Probably", I grinned, wrapping my arms around him. "But doesn't the rush feel _great_?"


End file.
